


Idle Fancies

by lecriteuse



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance, queer self-discovery via book club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecriteuse/pseuds/lecriteuse
Summary: In which a nerdy baby dyke and a repressed bi warrior manage to start a romance despite themselves.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skybone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skybone/gifts).



> This story features the kind of Cassandra that someone might write if their primary exposure to the canon version of the character was all of her romance cutscenes plus her dramatic reading of _All This Shit Is Weird_ over the Trespasser end credits.
> 
> So: you've been warned.
> 
> There is [an illustration for this fic](http://serenity-fails.tumblr.com/post/154031132651/skyholds-first-and-second-biggest-nerds), which I commissioned from the excellent and talented [serenity-fails](http://serenity-fails.tumblr.com/). [See it here.](http://serenity-fails.tumblr.com/post/154031132651/skyholds-first-and-second-biggest-nerds)

Cassandra was a romantic, through and through and through.

She enjoyed, very _thoroughly_ enjoyed romantic stories. Tales of passion, of wild amorous adventures, of lovers coming together… it was, perhaps, a frivolous hobby. But it was not objectionable, and it made her happy, so she indulged it when it did not interfere with her other duties.

It was inevitable, really, that her thoughts and fantasies, such as they were, would become more and more romantic, the more she read. And so, in quiet moments alone, or during tasks requiring little mental engagement, Cassandra imagined the characters of her romantic novels. At first, it was mostly the replaying of her favourite scenes from the stories themselves. But sometimes, she found herself imagining… imagining _herself_ in such scenes. And then she found herself re-working the scenes, to better suit her own inclinations, or to reflect her own life and reality.

Again, there was nothing terrible about this, nothing wrong. The were merely idle fancies, enjoyable distractions. Besides, now that the world had come apart, and she herself was at the forefront of the Inquisition that was fighting to hold it together, it seemed likely that any romance in her life would remain purely in the realm of fantasy.

***

Augusta Trevelyan had met Cassandra Pentaghast on the worst day of her life.

She had been happy enough to attend the Divine Conclave. Her faith had always been a comfort to her, and this was a calling her family had encouraged, or at least had not actively undermined. As the youngest of House Trevelyan, she knew herself to be an embarrassing afterthought of a child who resembled her father not at all, though she was very aware that she strongly resembled the dashing former tutor of her older brothers, a young man who had been sent away soon after her birth. She had no grand aspirations for her life beyond spending as little time with her family as she could manage, and a career with the Chantry seemed like an ideal way to get away from Ostwick, starting with the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

And then it had all gone sideways. As usual.

After emerging from a fade-riddled nightmare… or hallucination? …she had awoken clapped in chains. Her left hand, crackling with an unnatural green light, causing such agony that she had half a mind to cut it off at the elbow. And a tall, hard-looking woman barely containing her anger and grief, interrogating and accusing.

Not a good day. The worst day, really. And yet… Gus would always remember it as the day she first met Cassandra (Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena) Pentaghast. So, silver linings.

After all that, of course, things had gotten _really_ weird. The awful mark on her hand — which was still uncomfortable, and unpleasantly _strange_ , though at least it was no longer painfully killing her — and the mysterious circumstances of her acquiring it had thrown her into a position of some standing with the Inquisition. They called her _Herald of Andraste_ , but as much as Gus prayed for clarity and guidance, she remained terrifyingly unsure of what exactly had happened to her at Conclave. She certainly didn’t _feel_ as though she had been chosen by Andraste. At a time when her life and everything around her seemed to be thrown into utter chaos, she found her faith as distant as a star… yet, like a polestar, it was all she really had to guide her. She spent a lot of time in the chantry during those months at Haven, praying, or reflecting on the Chant of Light, seeking a certainty that eluded her.

Cassandra was one of the few laypeople in the Inquisition as devout as Gus herself, and so they saw one another in the chantry as often as in the training yards or around the war table. Perhaps it was familiarity that made Gus start thinking of Cassandra in… _warmer_ terms.

Gus had never really seen herself as a lover — her few previous liaisons had run the gamut from underwhelming to actively unpleasant. Certainly, immediately after the events at Conclave, romance had been the furthest thing from her mind. But within weeks of settling at Haven, Gus began noticing herself getting a little moony over the older woman. It was a very pleasant distraction from the troubles heaped upon troubles that plagued the Inquisition. Really, Cassandra was admirable in every way, living her faith and her duty, strong and skilled with sword and shield, charming and blunt and beautiful. When Gus complimented Cassandra’s swordplay, or made any remark about their shared faith, the slight smile she earned made her heart leap. She was careful to hide this reaction — even if the Seeker returned her interest, which she clearly did not, their situation was hardly conducive to any kind of courtship.

It was all going to come to nothing, Gus knew. Her own attractiveness as a lover was, Gus thought, minimal: she was not beautiful, nor charming, nor remarkably skilled, nor of especially noble birth (not that Cassandra seemed to care one whit about that last one). Besides, Gus was only involved in the Inquisition because of the mark on her hand and the Breach in the sky. Their paths would diverge soon enough. Best not to dwell on it.

***

The move to Skyhold may had not been by choice, but Cassandra could not deny that she was pleased to have the Inquisition headquartered somewhere more defensible than Haven. Although the place was still more than partly a ruin, it had only taken a few months of work to make it into a practical and relatively comfortable base of operations.

And now that they had an Inquisitor, Cassandra was quite content to bow out of the war room and take a more martially active role with the Inquisition. Inquisitor Augusta Trevelyan — who insisted that Cassandra, and almost everyone else, call her ‘Gus’ — had not wanted the role, but even if there _had_ been another suitable candidate, Gus was a truly good choice. As the Herald of Andraste, she was an important figurehead for the organization. And she had proven herself to be a competent, compassionate, and visionary leader as well. Cassandra was very pleased.

Gus was, however, a difficult person to get a read on. She was… well, not _shy_ , not exactly. Although she could be very genial, the Inquisitor tended to keep to herself, or hover around the periphery of social places like the tavern. Even on expedition, sitting with companions at an inn or around a campfire, Gus seemed… a little removed. Not standoffish, certainly. Holding back, perhaps. It occurred to Cassandra that perhaps the Inquisitor was lonely, or did not feel comfortable socializing with people in the organization she was now leading. Cassandra normally would not worry about such things, but it often seemed to her that Gus _wanted_ to be more friendly, and was unsure enough of her welcome that she held back.

Perhaps Cassandra was merely projecting such sentiments. But… perhaps Gus really did need a bit more encouragement. It would, Cassandra thought, be a kindness to help her in this way.

***

Cassandra was determined to drive Gus absolutely insane. There was no other explanation.

Well… no, not really. Cassandra was not _deliberately_ attempting to tease her. It was certainly all in Gus’s head. But _oh_ , it was throwing her head for a loop! Not to mention her heart, which was (despite Gus’s attempts to rein in the treacherous thing) rapidly and deeply aligning itself entirely toward Cassandra.

But what was Gus to do? How could she resist? She knew, intellectually, that Cassandra only saw her as a colleague, nothing more, never anything more… but her recent behaviour was not helping Gus to accept this reality. The moments of marked attention… the engaging personal conversations… the invitations to sit with her at the tavern or mess hall… all of it was certainly just the Seeker being friendly. Companionable. And yet Gus’s heart lurched with every gesture, every glance, every conversation. She thought about their encounters for days after. It really was terrifically distracting.

Not to mention _dangerous_. Not physical danger — Gus had little trouble focusing during a fight, even (especially) if Cassandra was by her side — but Maker help her, if Cassandra ever got an inkling that Gus’s feelings toward her were distinctly warmer than merely comradely… certainly the Seeker’s friendliness would come to an abrupt halt.

So every time Cassandra paid attention to her in a way that set her heart to fluttering (bringing an extra mug of ale for her in the tavern and asking her to stay a little longer… the rare, husky laughter that Gus’s more entertaining stories could provoke… “I hope I will see you in the tavern tonight, Gus” and “Come, there is a space next to me” and “You should come train with me and the recruits tomorrow afternoon” and a thousand other things….) Gus tamped down her reactions fiercely. _It didn’t mean anything. She was just being friendly. She would do the same for anyone…._

But, as usual, her efforts didn’t quite work out. And everything just got _weirder_. One day, Gus had been discussing with Sera the ways the Inquisition and the Red Jennies might work together. As the conversation wound down, Sera followed Gus out into the main rooms of the tavern, chatting about Inquisition gossip… this and that. Nothing in particular. Gus liked the rogue quite a bit, found that something about her unpredictable energy was appealing.

Sera inclined her head toward Cremisius Aclassi, the Chargers’ lieutenant. “Know why I think he always sits like that?” she asked.

Gus had noticed that Aclassi frequently perched on the back of a chair, rather than sitting in it normally. “Uh… maybe it’s out of habit, so he’s the same height as the Iron Bull?”

“Ha! Half right. He’s trying to get up higher so he can see… _someone_ ….” Sera concluded in a sing-song voice. 

“‘Someone’…?”

“Creepy-song lady.” Sera was craning her neck, looking around. “Wants to see her, _all_ the time. Dunno if that’s sweet or creepy. Guess they can both be creepy together, if they like. Maybe that’s what makes it sweet.” Spotting where some of their companions were having drinks, Sera made a beeline for an empty seat, then immediately availed herself of the pitcher of ale on the table.

Gus kept walking; without a direct invitation, she was unsure of her welcome, even though she increasingly thought of her _companions_ in the Inquisition as _friends_. It was nice. She had never had many friends, not at home nor while studying at Chantry schools. And so although she was tempted to approach them… no, she would go to her room to look over the paperwork for some of the judgments scheduled for the following days, perhaps after a visit to the chantry.

“Gus!” Cassandra called from the table. “Will you not join us?”

Gus stopped short, glancing to where the Seeker sat at the back of the table. “Oh, that’s so kind of you…” she began.

“Come, there is space. Dorian, move over, your cloak does not have a greater claim on the bench than Gus.”

“I’ll have you know, this cloak is made of the finest plush Fustian velvet. My dear Cassandra, don’t just bunch it up! Here, I’ll fold it…”

“There, come sit,” Cassandra said, moving over on the bench in the spot now cleared of Dorian’s voluminous cloak. When Gus hesitated, Cassandra glanced at her, indicating the space next to her with an inclination of her head, her eyebrows raised. Her eyes, Gus noticed, were luminous in the tavern’s torchlight, warm and gleaming, like honey in the comb… and she gave Gus a slight smile, just a quirk of her lip, curling up under the apple of her cheek….

How, dearest Andraste, _how_ could Gus resist? She sat, on the end of the bench, pressed up against Cassandra. She gave an awkward smile to Blackwall, seated across from her, and tried not to think too hard about how Cassandra’s hip felt against hers, or how their knees touched under the table.

“Well, I think it’s rather nice,” Blackwall was saying to Sera, seated next to him. “She’s not bad to look at, after all. Why shouldn’t he look?”

Sera shook her head. “Creepy,” she said.

“What is creepy?” Cassandra asked.

“Aclassi and the bard, Maryden,” Blackwall said. “He’s got a bit of a thing for her. Likes to sit so he can watch her while she sings.”

“Does he now?” Cassandra said, a small smile touching her lips.

“Ah, Seeker Cassandra is moved by the spectacle of young love,” Varric said, from the far end of the table. “You might try to hide it, but we all saw you smile, just then.”

“Why should I not smile?” Cassandra asked. “If they are indeed courting, I am happy for them.”

“Oh really,” Dorian drawled, teasing. “I believe I detect a mote of envy in your tone. Perhaps you are yearning for romance in your own life?”

Gus’s heart leapt into her throat, and she struggled to remain impassive. 

“Don’t be foolish,” Cassandra said brusquely. “It is pleasant to see our colleagues in the Inquisition find happiness, that is all.”

“If you say so,” Dorian replied. “Personally, I would welcome the advent of a love affair amongst the Inquisition’s inner circle. Nothing livens up dull days quite like the first fragrant blossoms of a budding romance.”

“But who needs all that creepy shite?” Sera asked, gesturing with her mug of ale. “You want fun, you should want _fun_ , not stupid _romance_.”

“Oh?” asked Blackwall, amused. “Most people’d find romance enjoyable, I think.”

“Romance certainly _can_ be fun, if one is doing it right,” Dorian said. “I’m certain Cassandra concurs.”

“Leave me out of this,” Cassandra replied.

“Come on now, Seeker,” Varric said. “You’re a romantic at heart.”

Cassandra studiously ignored Varric, sipping from her mug, eyes half-rolled at the ceiling.

“If Cassandra will not be prevailed upon for entertainment,” Dorian said, “perhaps our fearless leader will. What do you say, Gus? A whirlwind romance, the Inquisitor swept off her feet? It would do wonders for morale!”

Sera perked up. “Now _that_ would be fun,” she said. “Inky, Miss Serious-Breeches, getting all lovey-dovey?” She laughed. “No, can’t see it.”

Gus could feel herself flushing. She was uncomfortable enough being the object of scrutiny under most circumstances, but having her friends tease her about her love life — while she sat pressed against the woman she was deeply infatuated with — was excruciating! She glanced around, at anyone and anything other than the people at her table. “Haha, yeah… I can’t really see it either.”

Varric leaned over to fix Gus with a humorous look. “Really, Inquisitor? You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not us.”

“Ah ha!” Dorian said. “Perhaps someone has caught your eye, Gus?” 

Gus was shaking her head, horrified. “I — I really don’t — ”

“Do not tease her!” Cassandra said imperiously. “Gus is entitled to her privacy. Maker knows, she endures enough speculation about her personal life from all of Thedas. She does not need similar harassment from her friends.”

Gus turned to look at Cassandra, and found herself a little tongue-tied, locking eyes with the Seeker in close proximity. “Thank you, Cassandra,” she said softly.

“You are welcome,” the Seeker replied, smiling again, lighting Gus’s heart like a wildfire. With a touch of humour, she added, “It is ever my duty to defend you from all enemies, even when the ‘enemies’ are supposedly your friends.”

Gus’s heart thudded inside her ribs, and she returned the smile. 

The conversation moved on. At Cassandra’s invitation, Gus had half a mug of ale, and excused herself shortly thereafter.

Later, in her rooms, she considered getting a start on that paperwork, but decided that she was too distracted. It was ridiculous to continue to fan the flames of the torch she carried for Cassandra. A pointless distraction. Why, even in the chantry from whence she had just come, she had been preoccupied with wondering if Cassandra might come just then as well, might kneel beside her at the altar, their voices joining together in the Chant of Light…. And then, perhaps, Cassandra might accept her invitation to join her in her room, to talk about the love of Andraste for the souls of Thedas, and how that love might find expression in the devotion between two people….

Gus groaned and rolled over in her bed, burying her face in a pillow. Why, why must she be such a fool?

***

It was obvious, now that Cassandra thought about it. Gus was enamoured of someone at Skyhold. Perhaps that was why she became shy around their colleagues, despite being assertive and confident when carrying out her duties. Cassandra wondered who it might be… not that she intended to pry into the matter, of course! Gus clearly did not wish to have attention called to her feelings, and Cassandra did not blame her one bit.

Still… if Gus was pining for someone, and was not sure how to act on it… well. Cassandra was rather happy with the results of her encouraging Gus to socialize more. And really, it would not be so very different for Cassandra to offer a few subtle hints, encouraging Gus to be more proactive with whoever had caught her eye. 

Certainly, a bit of romance would make Gus happy — how could it not? And the object of her affections would likely be at least flattered, to be approached by someone as high-ranking and well-respected as Gus. Although Gus was not bold, not in her personal life, she was certainly not lacking in attractive characteristics. She was an excellent leader, a kind and attentive listener, and an intelligent conversationalist when one could get her to come out of her shell. She was, perhaps, not extravagantly beautiful, but she was strong and shapely, and her hair was an extraordinary shade of chestnut. Perhaps she ought to encourage Gus to wear it down more often, rather than in the practical ponytail she always wore….

But that was a detail for later. The first thing to do would be to speak a little more to Gus. It would be too much, Cassandra thought, to ask her about her infatuation directly. No, a more subtle approach was called for.

And so, the next morning, after they had both made their morning devotions in the chantry, Cassandra sidled up to Gus. When their morning devotions coincided, they often walked together from the chantry to the yard or the keep, and made small talk, or spoke of the goings-on at Skyhold. But this time, Cassandra had a specific goal in mind. She had given some thought as to what she would say, to encourage Gus to pursue the object of her affection, but without embarrassing her. Then an idea had come to her all at once. She felt certain it would work.

“Gus,” Cassandra began, “I was wondering if… if you ever read for pleasure?”

Gus gave her an inquisitive glance, but answered easily enough. “Oh, yes!” she said. “I’ve loved reading ever since I was a child.”

“I see,” Cassandra said. “So… may I ask, what kinds of books do you enjoy?”

“Histories,” Gus replied immediately. “There are so many fascinating accounts of the peoples of Thedas.”

“Ah. Do you ever read novels?”

“Books of stories, you mean? Well…” Gus’s brow furrowed. “My father’s library didn’t really have anything like that. We had a five-volume set of Avvar legends, and it certainly had many fanciful stories….”

Cassandra nodded. “Indeed.” She reached into her jerkin and pulled out a small book. “I myself enjoy reading novels. A great deal. And I thought perhaps… perhaps you would enjoy reading this one, too.” She held up the book. “It is a novel — as you said, a book with an imagined story — about an adventurer who finds herself swept up in… ah, perhaps it is best if I do not tell you before you can read it yourself,” Cassandra said, smiling at the memory of the rather outlandish story. “I found it to be a most entertaining tale,” she said, proffering it to Gus. “I would be happy to loan it to you, if you like.”

“Oh!” Gus said, softly. “I… I would be honoured.” She took the book from Cassandra, and cradled it as though it was a precious thing. “I promise I will be very, _very_ careful with it.”

“I hope you will enjoy it,” Cassandra said. “And, once you have read it, I… well. I would like to know your thoughts on it.”

“You would?”

“Very much, yes.”

“Then… then I will read it, and I will let you know,” Gus said, a little awkwardly, offering Cassandra a smile.

Cassandra smiled back, satisfied. The novel was certainly not florid or inappropriate, but it featured a character who overcame an initial shyness in order to pay lavish court to the heroine. It was wonderfully romantic… inspirational, really. If Gus needed a nudge in the right direction, a bit of inspiration to be more bold in matters of the heart, Cassandra could not imagine a better novel. And if it did not work, well, Cassandra could think of several other novels she would be happy to lend to Gus, to offer additional inspiration.

Cassandra went about her usual tasks for the next several days, with the novel and Gus at the back of her mind. She found herself almost… almost a little anxious. She hoped Gus was enjoying the novel. It was among Cassandra’s favourites. The idea that Gus might _not_ like it gave Cassandra an odd spasm of dismay.

They both ended up at the training dummies one afternoon. Cassandra performed her own drills, using a heavy training sword and shield, until her muscles shook. She would normally take a break — to over-train was to court needless injury — and perhaps try to find somewhere to sit and read for a little. But now, she eyed Gus, practicing a few feet away. It stood to reason that Gus would need a break soon, too, and, well… Cassandra was desperately curious to know what Gus had thought of the book.

She approached Gus, who was facing the other direction, intending to get her attention. Apparently, Gus had decided on a break for herself as well, for she casually stuck her training daggers into the loops for her belt. The she removed the leather thong that bound her hair, shaking it out.

Cassandra stopped in her tracks, suddenly and ferociously struck by the sight. She stared, captivated, at Gus’s glossy chestnut hair, which fell to her mid-back. While training under the midday sun, Gus had discarded her jacket, and was wearing only a short-sleeved shift; her bare shoulders and arms glowed with sweat. Cassandra was seized with the impression of Gus as the glorious heroine on the cover of a romance novel, strong and beautiful.

Gus began to turn around, wiping her brow on her forearm, and Cassandra quickly and with some difficulty got control of herself. What was _wrong_ with her, ogling her friend? Perhaps her imagination had become as overheated as her body. To be sure, she had spent some time lately thinking about the novel, and about Gus acting out some of the romantic scenes in it… still, her sudden spike of interest was disconcerting.

“Cassandra?” Gus sounded a little concerned, perhaps sensing the unbearable _oddness_ Cassandra felt.

Cassandra forced herself to look back at Gus. “Your training seems to be going well,” she offered, grateful to hear her voice sounded normal… or so she hoped.

Gus smiled. “Do you think so? I know I’ll never be a truly excellent fighter, but…” Gus lifted her arms to re-tie her ponytail, the muscles in her arms rippling.

“You can more than hold your own, on missions,” Cassandra reminded her. “And that is all you need, for me to protect you.” Cassandra blinked. “For… for _us_ to protect you. Us… your companions. On missions.”

Gus was nodding. “Of course, of course,” she said, a little quickly.

Cassandra, feeling exceedingly strange and self-conscious, began walking over to a bench by the keep wall, shaded from both sight and the midday sun by a few trees. Gus followed wordlessly. “I… I was wondering, Gus, if you had perhaps… if you had the opportunity to read the book I lent you…? I certainly would understand if you had not had the time, of course. Or if — if it was not to your liking.”

“Oh, no, no! I mean — I liked it. I read it. And I liked it.”

Cassandra felt relief wash over her. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but she was very glad Gus had liked the story. “You did? I am very gratified. Tell me, what did you like most about it?” Cassandra asked, both genuinely enthused to discuss Gus’s (and Cassandra’s own) favourite parts of the story, and wanted to verify that the romantic escapades of the heroine and her paramour had made an impression on Gus. She set her sword and shield against the wall.

“Well… I quite liked the descriptions of the Rivain coast. It sounds very beautiful.” Gus, who had stowed her jacket and other things at the bench, laid aside her daggers, then shrugged into the garment and sat.

Cassandra nodded as she sat next to Gus. “Yes. Yes. But… did you not find it romantic? The love affair between Ana-Lucia and Orlando?”

Gus nodded. “I suppose so, yes. He was… very forward, though. Even when Ana-Lucia says they cannot pursue a relationship because of the difference in their ranks, he presses his suit.”

“He wins her over,” Cassandra said, “with grand romantic gestures! What woman — what person — would not be captivated?” Cassandra felt herself smile, indulging in remembering the scene in her mind. “When they are together in the cove, hiding from the pirates, and he reveals he has been pining for her for so long, and declares his love… and then, by moonlight, he presents to her the pearl ring that she had thought lost forever….” Cassandra could not help but give a small, wistful sigh.

“Yes, but why would he not have given her the ring back when — ” Gus seemed to catch herself. “No, no, you’re right. It _was_ lovely.”

Cassandra nodded, smiling. “It is a most beautiful scene of ideal romance,” she said.

Gus hummed in agreement, smiling at Cassandra. Then, blinking, she leaned over and pulled out a rucksack from beneath the bench. “I, ah, have it with me? If you would like it back….” She held out the book to Cassandra.

“Certainly, if you have finished reading it,” Cassandra replied. She took the book from Gus, looking fondly at the cover, with its illustration of the heroine sitting astride a rearing horse, sword held aloft, her expression fierce.

“You really like that book, don’t you,” Gus said, her mouth quirking.

Cassandra glanced at her. “Yes. It is,” she sighed, “no great secret that I am… _fond_ of romantic novels. And, you know, I am not the only one at Skyhold who… who might find romance enjoyable…”

“…Oh?”

“Yes,” Cassandra said encouragingly. “I am sure that there are many people who would enjoy being courted, or receiving passionate gestures from an admirer.”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose there are. Too bad there are so few opportunities for potential lovers to indulge in such things, at Skyhold.”

Cassandra was about to argue, but Cullen came trotting up to them. “Sorry to interrupt. Cassandra, I could use your help running the recruits through an exercise. If you’re willing…?”

“Yes, of course,” Cassandra said, rising to her feet. She glanced back at Gus. “I am glad you enjoyed the book. I would like to discuss it further with you, if you are interested.”

Gus offered a half-smile. “Ah, yes. Yes. I’d like that.”  

Supervising training exercises was a task Cassandra could do half-asleep, so naturally her mind wandered, a little. Thinking back to the book she had lent Gus, she allowed a few fantasies to drift through her mind, of moonlit declarations of love, of sweet romantic gestures…. It occurred to her that Gus was wrong. There were plenty of opportunities for romance at Skyhold. Why, look at Orlando’s courtship of Ana-Lucia, done while fleeing Rivaini pirates! Gus obviously needed a little more inspiration, to think romantically, to encourage her to act on her feelings.

***

When Cassandra loaned her another novel, Gus did not think much of it. Cassandra obviously enjoyed the books a great deal, and seemed eager to discuss them. Perhaps her enthusiasm was contagious — or perhaps Gus was over-eager to spend time with Cassandra — but Gus found she liked reading material that was outside her usual reading habits. She even found, reading the second novel, that the stories and characters were surprisingly engaging and interesting, not to mention an excellent distraction from her day-to-day worries and tasks as Inquisitor.

And so, when Cassandra sought her out to discuss the book, Gus was most assuredly keen to spend time one-on-one with Cassandra, but was also genuinely looking forward to the discussion itself.

“…so their relationship really illustrated the historical tensions between Orlesians and Fereldens. It’s something I was aware of from reading the histories, but it was just _fascinating_ to see those dynamics reflected in the way Miriam and Jorden came together,” Gus concluded.

“I had not thought of that,” Cassandra said. “Though I can certainly see it now that are you pointing it out. I — I suppose I mostly read these for the romance, for the adventure and beauty of it.”

“Well,” Gus replied, “there is certainly plenty of adventure and beauty in the expertly-written historical parallels… but, I have to admit, I also found myself getting swept up in the romantic scenes,” she said a little shyly. It seemed like a silly thing to admit.

But Cassandra’s face lit up. “Oh, yes, I know! The scene where Jorden has created a bouquet of Miriam’s most favourite flowers, which she had to travel all day and all night to procure….”

“Showing Miriam how much Jorden loves her and wants their relationship to last, despite their differences…” Gus added, smiling.

“Precisely! And what did you think of the part where Miriam rescues Jorden from the Tevinter slavers…?”

“Distracting the slavers with fireworks, then storming into their camp? Well, in that part of the Tevinter Imperium, the landscape would make that kind of strategy a bit preposterous — ”

“Which makes it all the more exciting!” Cassandra enthused. “And daring! Oh, Miriam is so very bold and brave in her love.”

Gus had to actually suppress a bit of a laugh; Cassandra, of all people, ignoring military strategy? And it was just incredibly endearing to see her so happy, smiling so widely that her gums showed at the edges of her teeth. Gus’s heart summersaulted with affection.

“Yes,” Gus agreed, “it’s all a wonderful fantasy. Lovers going on grand adventures while courting and falling out and making up again. Wooing a warrior with poetry, solving heartbreak with flowers, rescuing a hostage with fireworks.” Gus quirked a smile. “Pretty far-fetched from what I’ve seen of the couples around Skyhold.”

Cassandra gave her a sharp look. “Nonsense. A devoted lover could easily put together any number of romantic gestures, even as austere as things may sometimes be with the Inquisition.”

“‘Easily’?” Gus said doubtfully.

“Well, perhaps it would require some small efforts,” Cassandra demurred. “But that is why the gestures are so romantic, so welcome! It is because they show the effort that the person went to, for their beloved!”

“I don’t know,” Gus said, half-teasing. “I feel like it would require feats of heroism to accomplish those kinds of things in the real world.”

Cassandra argued a little longer, until they had to separate to attend to their work, but Gus remained unconvinced. Still, it had been absolutely wonderful to spend so much time in friendly companionship with Cassandra. It wasn’t entirely what Gus wanted — she was, if anything, more enamoured of the Seeker than ever — but friendship was by far the safest option, and it was much more than Gus would have hoped for, and so she was content.

At least, she was content until the flowers. 

They were meeting so that Cassandra could give Gus another book to read, just a brief visit. When Gus jogged up the stairs to Cassandra’s loft at the appointed hour, Cassandra was there with the novel… and a bouquet. Both of which she handed to Gus with an eager smile.

Gus was a little stunned, her mind racing. “Oh, ah, are these for… um. Flowers…?”

Cassandra’s grin widened. “Yes! You see, even though most of the grounds in Skyhold are reserved for cultivating medicinal plants, it is entirely possible to put together a bouquet of flowers for courting someone.”

Gus’s eyebrows shot up. “‘Courting someone’?” she asked weakly.

“Precisely. You see here, I managed to find violets, growing just outside the curtain wall, and I know that you like violets. Mixed in with some daisies, and a few blooms of the crystal grace which are plentiful in Skyhold, I was able to make a perfectly nice bouquet that is tailored to you. Do you like it?”

Gus could only nod.

“So it is very possible for a lover in Skyhold… for someone who wished to begin courting another… to give them flowers.”

“I… see. Yes. Well. Thank you.” Gus thought perhaps her heart would beat right out of her chest; it sounded louder to her than the forge below.

“You are most welcome. Now, this next book,” Cassandra said, indicating the book that Gus had forgotten she was holding, “is about a group of friends who…”

All the rest of that day, Gus felt as though she’d been dazed by a heavy blow. She had put the flowers into a vase in her rooms and then tried to go about her work, but she was alternately confused and elated. There was no way this was what it seemed… was there? No, no, of course not. Gus had gathered that Cassandra did not consider women as potential lovers. But then, Gus had never really gotten the impression that Cassandra considered any _men_ of her acquaintance as potential lovers either — certainly when The Iron Bull flirted outrageously with the Seeker, she seemed amused and flattered, but distinctly not interested in allowing his attentions to progress beyond mere flirting. Gus had never made any advances toward Cassandra, so it was not beyond the realm of possibility that she might be more responsive… but no, there was almost no likelihood that Cassandra would be receptive. But then Gus remembered the flowers, the conversation in which Cassandra had given them to her, the pointed attentions and overtures that had been going on for weeks. Perhaps there was a chance…?

At the War Table that afternoon, Gus was preoccupied and unable to focus. She fervently hoped that her (admittedly well-deserved) reputation for being quiet and introspective covered her distraction.

By the next morning, after a restless night, Gus had talked herself out of reading much into the gift of flowers. Cassandra was merely making a point about the feasibility of romantic courtship at Skyhold — an odd way of making the point perhaps, but there wasn’t much sense in making a marsh out of a nug-puddle.

So she went about her business as usual. She was able to speak normally to Cassandra and look her in the eye while they walked from the chantry. She was able to focus on planning at the war table, meeting with important visitors, exercising and training with weapons, and all the usual things that made up her day. She even managed to read some of the new book Cassandra had lent her.

The days went on in this way. Cassandra continued to seek her out to speak to her about non-Inquisition business, and to encourage her to sit beside her at the tavern; and the Seeker continued to make odd remarks and ask leading questions about romance and courtship…. Gus could only suppose it was because such things were Cassandra’s preferred topics of casual conversation. To imagine any… _warmer_ motives was to court insanity.

And then Cassandra read her the poetry.

They were discussing the latest book Cassandra had lent her, sharing their favourite moments, talking about the characters almost as though they were real, and comparing the book to the others they had both read.

“Really, I think the scene in the hallway is the one that shows how much Samuel and Matthias care for each other,” Gus was saying. “It’s such a quiet moment for them both, but it shows how much they care for one another even when nothing showy or overtly romantic is being done.”

Cassandra was skeptical. “Quiet companionable moments are all well and good. But the passionate love that exists between them could not have been started, or nourished, on such quiet moments alone. Admittedly, their romance is less ‘showy’ overall, and I suppose that is what they two would want for themselves… but it is still full of beautiful romantic gestures. For example… the poem….”

“The one Samuel writes for Matthias? …Yes, I suppose it _is_ a nice gesture, though I fear the novelist’s skills run more toward prose than poetry! The poem was little better than what one of the Inquisition foot soldiers might write to his own paramour.”

Cassandra gave her a look that Gus could not interpret. “I suppose not everyone has the skill for poetry. Maker knows, I do not. But… Gus, it is certainly possible, even here in Skyhold, for a lover to pay court with poetry.” They were sitting in Cassandra’s loft — they had discovered that they were unlikely to be interrupted there, when they were discussing books — and the Seeker rose and walked to her cupboard, returning with a small unadorned volume in hand. “I believe the library has a great many books of amorous poetry, though they do not have this one.” Cassandra sat, then opened the book, and read aloud:

I loved you first: but afterwards your love  
Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song  
As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.  
Which owes the other most? my love was long,  
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;  
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me  
And loved me for what might or might not be –  
Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.  
For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’  
With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,  
For one is both and both are one in love:  
Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’  
Both have the strength and both the length thereof,  
Both of us, of the love which makes us one. 

Gus’s breath caught in her throat as Cassandra read aloud. Her voice was, perhaps, a little stilted at the start; but it grew warmer, freer, more expressive, and by the last lines her tone was full of yearning ardor. Gus stared at Cassandra, at the beautiful shapes her mouth made, the passion in her eyes, and thought, _Oh, Maker help me, I am so in love_.

She could not stop staring even when Cassandra looked up, meeting her eyes. The Seeker smiled affectionately. “It is very affecting, is it not?” she asked softly.

“It’s… beautiful,” Gus breathed, riveted.

“I am so pleased you like it. This book,” Cassandra said, holding up the volume, “contains many beautiful love poems. I think that reading them out loud to the object of one’s affection is such a lovely gesture of romance… wouldn’t you agree?”

Gus could hardly breathe. She thought perhaps she was actually dying, such was the tumult in her body, in her heart.

Cassandra held out the volume to Gus. “I would like to give this to you,” she said. “For you to have.”

“Oh!” Gus said, finding her voice. “Oh, Cassandra, I… couldn’t possible accept — ”

“I insist,” Cassandra said, shifting closer to press the book into Gus’s hands. She laid her hands over Gus’s, clasping them, holding the book between their bodies. “I hope that the poems will give you joy, and that… perhaps you will consider reading them out loud. To someone who is special to you.”

Gus could only stare, and nod. Cassandra smiled, and squeezed her hands before releasing them and leaning back. 

Needless to say, Gus got nothing accomplished for the rest of that day. She retreated to the library and attempted to read up on on the history of Rivaini-Antivan diplomatic relations in advance of an important meeting next week, but she barely got three words in before her mind skipped off in a thousand directions at once, like a goblet of wine dropped on the floor. Eventually, as the torches were being lit, she gave up. Flagging a servant, she ordered food to be brought to her rooms. There, she dropped any pretence of work, curling up on the settee with the book of poetry and her tray of food. She read the whole volume, twice, until the fire was embers and the sky outside her windows was wholly dark.

Her mind whirling, Gus climbed into bed, bringing the book with her to peruse some more. She was in an agony of uncertainty. One moment, she was utterly convinced that Cassandra was courting her. The next she was just as certain that Cassandra was not at all interested in her, and only wanted a friend with whom she could discuss romance.

One thing was absolutely certain. Gus was utterly, utterly in love.

Oh, it had been building for months, of course. Gus was no stranger to crushes, though her infatuation with Cassandra had certainly persisted longer than most. Somehow, after they had arrived at Skyhold, everything Cassandra did, everything she said, made Gus love her more and more. Her deep and abiding faith; her prowess and bravery in battle; her striking beauty and effortless grace; her genuine kindness and goodheartedness; and, lately, her joy in reading and in romance. It all combined, somehow, to make Gus completely adore her, and wish for nothing more than to know her even more, to spend more time with her, to make her as happy as possible.

But what was Gus to do? Ultimately, Cassandra had not said or done anything that truly showed any amorous intentions… and Gus was not about to do something to threaten the friendship she valued so much. 

Still… everything Cassandra had to say about romance, about love, placed great emphasis on boldness. Perhaps she was hinting to Gus, asking for a bold display from her? The way Cassandra spoke about the impulsive acts of passion in novels suggested she would dearly love to be the object of such obvious affection….

It was too risky. Unless Cassandra made some unmistakable overture, Gus would not make a move of her own.

***

It had been a passing thought that Cassandra had, a few weeks back, when she had first started trying to encourage Gus to be more bold and romantic. There had been fireworks in the novel they were discussing. Although Gus seemed to think that romantic gestures would be largely impossible in a place like Skyhold, and although Cassandra knew she was wrong about things such as flowers and poetry, it was possible Gus had a point about the fireworks….

Cassandra mentioned fireworks, casually, to Dagna when she was retrieving a sword to which the arcanist had made some esoteric adjustment.

“Fireworks? Like in Tevinter, or in Rivain? I mean, the basic components are the same in both, but the style of device and integration of magic force are pretty different…” Dagna mused.

“It would not matter, I should think. Just… if someone wanted fireworks in Skyhold, would it be possible to get some? Would they have to be specially imported, or — ”

“Oh, no, no, of course not!” Dagna all but scoffed. “The workshop absolutely has everything I’d need to put together some basic fireworks. I could do it by this evening, probably. And I might even be able to make a few really _spectacular_ ones, if I can figure out how the Tevinters integrate inferno magic into the structure of the casings….”

“That will not be necessary,” Cassandra said, slinging her sheathed sword over her shoulder. “I was merely curious.”

That seemed likely to be the end of it. Fireworks, specifically, did not come up again, in books or conversation with Gus, and thus Cassandra never had the opportunity to point out to Gus that fireworks were certainly available at Skyhold, for an admirer bold and passionate to seek them out.

Certainly, over the course of a few weeks, Gus seemed a little more open to the idea of active courtship. As far as Cassandra could tell, she had not actually offered any romantic gestures to her potential lover; but perhaps she was being private about her love affairs. She certainly seemed happier when Cassandra spoke with her, more at ease and smiling. It was, indeed, very pleasant to talk about books and romance with Gus even outside of Cassandra’s original intention of prompting the other woman to pursue her love interest. She was an observant and interested reader, pointing out things from the novels that Cassandra had missed (despite having read them many times), and offering fresh insights into the characters… besides which, Gus was just pleasant company. Cassandra genuinely enjoyed spending time with her.

It came that, one day, Gus had to cancel an appointment to meet with Cassandra and discuss the latest book they had both read — not one of Cassandra’s, this time, but a somewhat fanciful tale from the Skyhold library, which they had taken turns reading. A runner from the Inquisition’s diplomatic staff came to inform Cassandra that the Inquisitor was unable to leave the meeting between the Rivaini and Antivan delegations.

Cassandra was a little disappointed. Later, when she happened to see the negotiating parties leave the ambassadorial offices — Gus absolutely drooping, and even Josephine looking somewhat wilted — Cassandra felt sympathy, and even a little concern. They likely would not have eaten that day, despite the difficult talks they had endured.

Well. Friends did small kindnesses for friends, did they not? And Cassandra was Gus’s friend, certainly — the last few weeks had solidified that fact, Cassandra thought. And so, she went to the kitchen, and (after verifying that the Inquisitor had not yet ordered food for herself that evening), talked a few of the bustling cooks and scullery maids into providing her with some meat-and-potato pasties and a few honeyed cakes, plus a smallish jug of decent wine (Cassandra may have glowered a little over-fiercely for that item, moved as she was by sympathy — had Cassandra herself been locked in touchy diplomatic negotiations for most of a day, she would most certainly want wine, after, or possibly before). She carried all this in a bread-basket up to Gus’s room, where she nodded at the guard before knocking. A tired greeting invited her inside.

“Cassandra?” Gus asked, looking up from where she sat, a little slumped, on the settee. “Ah, sorry,” she said, sitting up a bit. “What can I do for you?” She looked and sounded so exhausted that Cassandra felt moved with concern.

“I have brought you some food, and wine,” Cassandra said. “I thought, perhaps, if you are not too tired… we could eat, and discuss that last book?”

Gus smiled. She still looked weary, but perked up quite a bit, Cassandra thought, at the mention of food and conversation. While Gus fetched a couple of cups, Cassandra glanced around. She had not been inside the Inquisitor’s quarters since they were first scouting out Skyhold’s layout. What ought to have been a large, imposing, chilly space was made human-scale and cozy by the shelves of books and knickknacks around the walls, the homespun throws on the back of the settee, the woven rugs that covered much of the stone floor.

They sat with the basket between them on the settee, eating and drinking and discussing the latest book with perhaps more animation than usual. The wine was delicious, but unexpectedly potent, and neither woman was used to consuming anything stronger than small ale on a regular basis.

At a lull in the conversation, Gus glanced over to the balcony. “I have been cooped up all day,” she complained. “I’d like some fresh air.” Setting aside her cup, she rose and walked to the doors, pulling them open and striding out.

The influx of chilled air made the candle flames flicker. Bemused, Cassandra followed her, pulling the balcony doors mostly shut behind her. The evening air was bracing, but not frigid. It was a clear night, and a nearly-full moon hung above the mountains. Gus was leaning against the stone balustrade, her expression pensive, her posture relaxed. Cassandra thought she had never seen Gus so at ease. Unwilling to disrupt the moment, Cassandra silently moved next to her, stood beside her close enough that their shoulders brushed, and looked out into the night. Their breath came out in clouds that lingered in front of their faces, briefly, then dissipated. Cassandra felt deeply at ease, full of contentment. Standing here with Gus, in the quiet, was almost as pleasant as their lively conversation about books and romance.

A small smile on her lips, Cassandra turned her head to look at Gus, who glanced back and returned the smile, but did not speak. Cassandra felt something bloom inside her, something warm and glowing, and thought how fortunate she was to have this moment of quiet comfort and companionship, here, now.

Her reverie was interrupted by the very, very faint sound of voices coming from the corner of the yard far below the balcony. Startled, Cassandra glanced down, and saw small lights moving on the ground. This alone was not cause for alarm, but Cassandra caught the distinct tones and cadences of Sera’s voice, and her sense of calm left her entirely.

Before Cassandra could say anything or even gather her thoughts, there was a sudden flurry of activity from the moving lights below, the sound of Sera’s whooping laughter, a small flash of light, and then a very loud _BANG_ accompanying the sudden upward flight of a massive fountain of coloured light. Cassandra managed to react minimally, but Gus startled badly, jumping and then clinging to Cassandra. 

Cassandra instinctively put her arms around Gus, steadying her. She immediately understood what had happened, remembering her conversation with Dagna many days ago, as well as the recent conspiratorial closeness between Dagna and Sera, to say nothing of Sera’s penchant for pranks.

The first blast was followed closely by another, and another, and in short order the night sky was lit with a dazzling spectacle, bright with glittering sparks and flashing lightning and elegantly arcing flares, in every conceivable colour. The light, and the noise, went on for perhaps a minute or two. When it was quiet, and dark, once more, Cassandra turned her head to say something to Gus, to tell her that this was Sera’s doing, but stopped when she saw the rapt expression on Gus’s face as she looked to where the fireworks had been. Gus slowly returned Cassandra’s gaze.

Cassandra was suddenly, acutely aware that they were standing pressed closely together; that her arms were around Gus, that she was actually holding her close; that their faces were scant inches apart, so close the clouds of one another’s breath fogged what little air there was between them.

Without conscious thought, Cassandra bent her face slightly forward, and touched her lips to Gus’s in a quick and artless kiss.

Just as quickly, Cassandra pulled back. She felt a brief and powerful flash of regret and recrimination — what was she _thinking?_ — along with half-formed thoughts of an apology. Seeing Gus’s face in the moonlight, her expression of vulnerable joy, Cassandra paused, her regret evaporating. Confused, she drew a quick breath, completely at a loss as to what to do, what to say, what to _feel_.

Then Gus raised her hands from where they rested on Cassandra’s collarbones, slid them up to softly cup Cassandra’s face. Cassandra barely had time to register the unfamiliar but very pleasant sensation of her face being tenderly touched, the chilled fingertips contrasted with warm palms, when Gus pulled her gently forward into another kiss.

This kiss was _not_ quick or careless. Gus kissed her slowly, her lips moving deliberately, closing each long kiss with short, soft pecks around Cassandra’s mouth. Cassandra’s arms unconsciously tightened, pulling them even closer together, which was _very_ pleasant indeed, warming and comforting and _exciting_ all at once. When the kisses deepened, opened, Cassandra could taste the wine on Gus’s tongue, sinuous and sliding against her own. Her heartbeat pounded through her entire body; her entire being resonated with pleasure.

How long they stood, kissing, lost in one another, Cassandra could not say. When it slowed, then stopped, they gazed at one another from a breath away, still so close that Cassandra could see the moon reflected in Gus’s eyes.

Panic reared up in her all at once, exploding in her mind, and she stepped back, almost _pushed_ Gus away with the force of letting go of her. Cassandra saw the look of confused anguish on her face, and before Gus could say anything, or step toward her, Cassandra ground out, “I’m sorry! I — can’t — ” Then with an inarticulate cry of frustration and self-disgust, she turned and fled back through the balcony doors.

***

Gus had never in her life gone from such giddy elation to such heartsick misery in such a short time. At that moment, Gus would have said, without exaggeration, that even the explosion at Conclave had not been so personally devastating.

When Cassandra had appeared in Gus’s rooms, offering food and drink and enjoyable conversation, Gus had felt a deep, fond happiness — not to mention gratitude, after the tedious and unpleasant negotiations of the day. With the wine sending rays of heat through her, talking with Cassandra about the book they had both read, she had felt relaxed, cheerful, affectionate. And on the balcony, breathing in the bracing mountain air, with Cassandra at her side, she had felt… whole. Grounded. Serene.

The first firework had shattered her calm, but when she realized what was going on — Cassandra had come to her rooms to see her, had brought her food and wine, and now there were fireworks, _fireworks_ , just off her balcony, while they were together, as Cassandra held her in her arms — Gus felt as though the fireworks were going off in her own heart, as though it were filled with bright blazing lights, as big as the sky itself.

And kissing Cassandra…. It had been years since Gus had last kissed anyone, and, truth be told, she had never been especially excited to be kissing those past partners. It had always just been the expected thing to do. But this… it was better than anything Gus had imagined. Cassandra’s arms were so strong and sure around her, holding her close, her beautiful face beneath Gus’s hands, kissing with a passion so intense that Gus could barely breathe.

It was everything she wanted. It was perfect beyond imagining.

And then it all came crashing down. As usual.

Gus turned back to the balcony rail, leaning into it as though she might collapse without its sturdy support. Her breathing juddered in her lungs, and she did not quite weep, though she came very close. Had she… had she been too forward? Had she mistaken Cassandra’s intentions? No, she was sure, even with the distraction of the fireworks, that Cassandra had been the one to first kiss _her_ … but was Gus confused? It had all happened so fast, and Gus had been in such a daze of happiness. And she had, perhaps, drunk more wine than she was entirely used to imbibing…. Oh, she was a fool. Why, _why_ had she kissed Cassandra? The Seeker would never wish to see her ever again; their friendship, which Gus treasured so much, was now just ashes.

Gus clenched her hands into fists, sniffling, hunched over. She stood in that position for what felt like an age. When the crest of her grief had finally washed over her and moved on, she took a deep shuddering breath. The cold had been settling on her like a wet blanket as she stood there, and she shivered. Straightening, she turned to go back inside.

Cassandra was standing in the doorway.

Gus thought for a moment that she was hallucinating. She blinked, twice, but Cassandra was still there. How long had she stood there, watching Gus? Feeling something beyond shame, beyond misery, Gus stood immobilize and silent, waiting for Cassandra’s judgment, for her recrimination.

Then Cassandra spoke, or tried to. She seemed to require a few false starts before finding her voice. “I am sorry,” she said, and Gus’s heart sank, oh, it sank, and she had not even registered that it had risen, a little, in hope, at Cassandra’s appearance. 

“I am sorry,” Cassandra repeated, “for leaving, just now. I am ashamed. I abhor cowardice, as you know, and running away from you just then was the act of a coward.” Cassandra stepped toward Gus. “I have spent so many years of my life devoted to duty and faith, embracing romance only in books, or in my own mind. I…” Cassandra stopped within arm’s reach of Gus. She seemed to hesitate, then gave a small, chagrined smile. “For the last little while, I have been reluctant to examine my own feelings too closely. I allowed myself to believe that what I felt for you was simply friendship, albeit mixed up with the fictional romance that has captivated me in books and in my own imagination. Do you know, I often imagined myself in the stories I read, imagined romantic possibilities for myself… but I believed it impossible that I should have truly romantic feelings for a person in my life, now. I certainly did not ever think I would have romantic feelings for another woman. Well. I have been wrong before. No doubt I will be wrong again.”

Gus could not believe it, could not allow herself to believe this. Was this really happening? She stared, blinking at Cassandra. “Cassandra…” she said uncertainly. “What are you saying?”

To Gus’s utter astonishment, Cassandra actually went down on one knee. In the same motion, she took one of Gus’s hands between her own. She appeared to be about to speak, but then, instead, she pressed a kiss to the back of Gus’s right hand, then to the palm, and then held her hand against her cheek.

Feeling the warmth of Cassandra’s cheek beneath her palm, the press of Cassandra’s hands holding hers, seeing Cassandra’s face turned up to gaze at her, Gus felt so utterly and perfectly happy it defied belief. She had not wept when she thought all was lost, but now, helpless, overwhelmed by joy, she found tears rolled down her cheeks even as she smiled so widely it felt as though her face would break in two.

“I don’t quite know how this will work, exactly,” Gus said, breathless and wobbly. “But I really, _really_ want it to work, Cassandra, more than anything.”

Cassandra rose, still holding Gus’s hands. “As do I,” she said. “It will be… complicated, no doubt. The world is full of conflict, and the Inquisition is at the centre of it… and you are the Inquisitor, and the Herald of Andraste. And my leader. But….” Here Cassandra smiled. “I believe it will be well worth the trouble.”

Seeing Cassandra’s smile, Gus gave in to an impulse she had had since the first time Cassandra had spoken to her in friendship, and kissed the corner of her mouth where it curled into her cheek. Cassandra, turning her head, returned the kiss, gently.

Then, together, they walked back into Gus’s room, into its warmth, into uncertainty, into a future that held all the brightness and dangers and delights of love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [skybone](http://archiveofourown.org/users/skybone/pseuds/skybone/). I wanted to write you some Femquisitor/Cassandra, and this suuuuuper-fluffy nonsense happened. I hope you like it anyway. <3
> 
> The poem Cassandra reads is “I loved you first: but afterwards your love” by Christina Rossetti.


End file.
